


What's the kindest way to say "the end"?

by TedWrites



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Suicide, they just keep each other company
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27915580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TedWrites/pseuds/TedWrites
Summary: For the first time in his life, Christmas was lonely.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit
Comments: 14
Kudos: 438





	What's the kindest way to say "the end"?

For the first time in his life, Christmas was lonely. 

The snow howled in a way that sent shivers of coldness deep inside his bones. It’s strained, and he wraps the blanket tighter. The shack is shabby and full of holes that let the cheer of death creep in and corner him. The fire in the fireplace is pale, sickly. Its light doesn’t quite reach, and Tommy emphasizes with it. 

If he chances a look out his window, he knows he will see the bright, colorful lights of the big Christmas tree they decorated in the middle of the city, far bigger than it needed to be and obnoxious next to his dark, lonely home. Their laughter rides on the wind and transforms into ghosts of tormenting sneers. He can’t stand it, because he knows, had things played out differently, he would be there, the loudest laugh, the brightest smile, the most obnoxious piece of shit the whole nation would have ever seen.

But he was alone now. 

The snow was thick and he feared his dainty roof would crumble under its weight. He wished it would swallow him in the rubble just as it had Wilbur so long ago. Those times were far behind him, like he had aged a thousand lives in a second. Wilbur’s ghost was the only reminder of his old life, but it was bittersweet. Every time the apparition stumbled about his new home, he would curiously ask why he was there and not withTubbo. Every time he left, his own machinations forced him to forget, so his visits were rare and, unfortunately, lacking in any substance. But he was less lonely when he was there. 

The only other person that came to see him, not afraid of being banished themself, was Phil. But Phil was distant, like he wasn’t quite sure how to deal with it, like he was too stressed to try and fix it. He brought gifts and warm food and told him stories of what his friends, his former friends, did, without realizing it did nothing but harm him. He couldn’t fault the man- his own sons drove themselves into ruin; one of them killed at his own hand, the other lost in the arctic fields of the north, angry and hated by everyone else. 

And then there was Tommy. 

He didn’t know if Phil had any hopes for him, if he was broken-hearted in the same way he was when he drove the sword through Wilbur’s chest or when he saw Technoblade’s ransacked home. He didn’t know if the exile took him by surprise or if he secretly wished for it too. He didn’t want to think too much about it.

It was days like these, when the loneliness was at its peak. He couldn’t even turn his anger onto someone else- he was the only one to blame for this. He had been selfish. He had been obsessed with power and he ruined everything for those he cared for. He burned the rope his friendship with Tubbo was hanging onto and had hurt him beyond fixing.

He hoped Tubbo hated him. He wouldn’t be able to stomach the thought that his best friend, his other half, his partner in crime was out there somewhere, just as hurt and lonely. This is something only he should feel, only he had the responsibility to bear it. 

The wind howled louder, windows shaking. For a second, he swore he heard footsteps and voices, but the silence was just as deafening when the wind died down. He laughed, a wet and teary thing. Lately, tears flowed easier, without even noticing. His eyes, heavy with nights spent wide awake in fear of the nightmares, were always red and swollen. _No one was around to notice them anyway._

He pondered using the blanket to dry the wet patches, but his body was too numb to move. The fire had died. The room was cold, humid and dark. He lacked the drive to relight it; it would die again eventually. He wondered if that night would be the night he finally allowed death to sweep him away, as he had hoped it would be for weeks now. He would close his tired eyes and finally, instead of nightmares, all that would await him would be _nothingness._

And then his door pushed open with too much force, slamming into the wall and throwing snow everywhere. His heart jumped in his chest and his eyes widened. The cold bit at his cheeks. For a moment he wondered if the wind just knocked it open, but then a pair of wet boots thumped onto the moderately dry floor. 

He wondered if Phil came to bring him food again, like he did every now and then because he knew Tommy didn’t have it in himself to take care of himself properly. But then, pink hair and thick teal cape revealed themselves and Tommy shot upwards in what should have been a defensive stance, but which lacked the care and power it once had. 

Technoblade stared at him in silence. Then his eyes looked around the room, around the barren walls and the pitiful table with one chair next to the empty fireplace.

“Why on earth are you sitting here in darkness?” his voice was gruff, like he had strained to get there, but his words weren’t unkind. 

He dragged behind him a heavy satchel, sword nowhere in sight. He closed the door behind him, taking in how hard Tommy’s body was shivering underneath the thin shirt he was wearing. In his haste, he dropped the blanket, his only source of warmth. 

He moved towards him with intent. “What am I going to do with you?” he mumbled, more to himself. Tommy didn’t get the chance to bite back. Technoblade unbuttoned his heavy coat and wrapped it around his shoulders. It was a bit damp and far too big for Tommy’s skeletal frame, but it was _warm_. Tommy threw him a hopeless look.

“Why are you here?” somewhere in his mind, Tommy remembered that they were supposed to be enemies, to hate each other and fight every time they met, but before all that, Technoblade was his _brother_. He missed him. 

Technoblade laughed in his high pitched way, like it hurt. He ruffled Tommy’s dirty hair. “I was bored of sitting on my own.” he said, like it explained it. He knew Technoblade loved the isolation, he felt comfortable doing his own thing. It felt like and excuse, but Tommy missed human contact too much to complain.

“I was bored of it too.” he said, instead. His voice was thick. 

Technoblade looked around again. The house felt impossibly lonely. Anger boiled deep within him. This is where they threw his _little brother_? In a fucking matchbox of a room? While they were all having a jolly good time with their loud singing and warm food? He wanted to storm there and beat the life out of Dream, that fucking _bastard_. And, while at it, rip Tubbo a new one for not having the strength to fight for the boy he so casually called his best friend. Instead, he locked eyes with Tommy.

“Do you care about anything in here?” Tommy gave him a clueless look. He too looked around the room. Nothing here brought any happy memories. 

“No, I don’t think so. Everything I had has been burned long ago.” 

“Good. Come on, we’re leaving this dump.” Technoblade moved towards the exit, but Tommy grabbed his wrist.

“Hold on, where are we going?” his eyes were brimming with fear that he worked hard to hide and failed.

“We’re going _home._ I can’t let you mope around all alone here.” the other man said, as if it explained more. “We’re going to my place.” he detailed, exasperated. 

He opened the door without waiting for Tommy to reply. He was already half-way through the doorway when the younger one spoke up.

“Wait, what about your coat? It’s cold out there.” his hands, grayed by cold, struggled to unbutton it. 

“Keep it on, you need it more than me." Technoblade's eyes were filled with hurt and pity. "It’s not even that cold anyways.” the smile he  gave him was warmer than the coat.

_“Okay._ ” Tommy said.

_ “Okay.”  _

  
  


\-------

Technoblade’s house was bigger and warmer than Tommy’s. The thick dark oak logs stood their ground against the wind and the glass of the windows kept all the warmth inside. The big fireplace still had hot coals from when Technoblade left, which lit back to life with practiced ease when the man threw a few dry logs and a match. 

There was a small christmas tree in front of it, far away from the reach of the flames, but it was barren of any decorations. _(“I’m not good with tacky stuff like that.” Technoblade sheepishly said.)_

Tommy was nudged to sit down in front of the flame, coat replaced by a dry, fluffy blanket which made his old one look like a rag in comparison. While he warmed his numb fingers, Technoblade made them hot chocolate. Tommy’s had three big marshmallows that started melting from the heat. Techno’s was dark and bitter, but he smiled softly when he took the first sip.

They sat next to each other in silence for a while. 

Tommy thought about how, a year ago, he had done the same with Tubbo and Wilbur, laughing and telling funny stories of each other. Then, he thought of how stressed Tubbo looked the last time he saw him, with dark eyebags and chewed fingers. He thought of the hurt and anger in his eyes as he gave the final verdict. He thought of his back and the way it trembled, like he was crying. He thought of being all alone in a small room that felt too big for him. _He thought of how close he was to throwing his life away._

Technoblade thought of things from too many years ago. He thought of the first time he met Tommy, of how loud and energetic and happy he had been. He thought of playing around with Wilbur and pulling pranks. He thought of when they found Tubbo and how well they clicked as a family. He thought of Wilbur dying in Phil’s arms and of Phil’s bitter sobbing as he wrapped his arms around the bleeding corpse. He thought of Tubbo’s betrayed expression when he shot him and of his hurtful words he threw Tommy’s way. 

_ Technoblade drowned in regret. _

But Tommy leaned his head on his shoulder and sighed in content. His eyes fluttered closed.

“Merry Christmas, Techno. Thank you for coming after me.” his smile was sad, tired, but his body was relaxed.

“Merry Christmas, kid. Glad to have you here.” 


End file.
